


Literally idk I'm just going with the flow. ITS GONNA BE SMUT THO

by melissainthemcrmy



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Brendon, Discipline, Dom! Dallon, Dom/sub, Domestic Discipline, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Student Brendon Urie, Sub! Brendon, Teacher Dallon Weekes, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Harry, literally just smut, sorry if im distracted im listening to david bowie rn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissainthemcrmy/pseuds/melissainthemcrmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon Urie is a student at Saint Bartholomew's high school in Nevada. His English teacher is Dallon Weekes. Dallon is a very attractive strict english teacher who Brendon 'hates'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Literally idk I'm just going with the flow. ITS GONNA BE SMUT THO

I was sitting in my normal seat for English, the same seat that I had sat in for two years, when Mr Weekes walked in. I stared at him in awe, only just realising how amazing he looked. He was wearing a tight white shirt with a dark green bow tie with white polka dots. His black skinny jeans emphasized just the right places. His hair was slightly messy and he was wearing thick-rimmed glassed. I don't understand why I hadn't noticed before, I don't even like him! I don't know why I suddenly felt this way, he was far to strict and gave out way to many detentions to actually be liked. I didn't even pay attention in his class; I walked in half asleep. and then I walked out like a zombie. It was always the last lesson of the day as well, so I was even more tired. English Lit was boring. Who even needed it in life? But today wasn't boring. Today was different. Very different.

In the two years of having Mr Weekes as an English teacher, he had never once read aloud. The longest thing he'd read to us was a letter about a school trip to London (which ended up getting cancelled) last year. He'd usually pick on people to read chapters or get an audiobook. But because he couldn't find a 'suitable' audiobook for The Christmas Carol, and he felt that 'the language is too hard' for the people who wanted to read, he was reading aloud. I outwardly groaned- very clearly unhappy at the fact that we had to listen to the world's most boring English lit teacher read the world's most boring book.  
"Anything the matter, Mr Urie?" He asked through gritted teeth, glaring at me.  
"Why are we doing The Christmas Carol? Why couldn't we do something cool like Stephen King? How is it even relevant to our time? It's not even in proper English!"  
"If you like, Mr. Urie, you can study every single Charles Dickens text and write essays on how they are relevant in today's society in a series of detentions. Or better still, you can shut up and listen and actually learn something."

I shut up and listened then. He opened the book and started reading and I was shocked. He sounded amazing. As soon as he was about half way through the first page, he came and sat on the edge of my desk, knowing that I usually use this time to sleep. I glared at him as if he'd ruined my plans, but this lesson, I had no intention of napping. As he was reading, he was starting to relax a little bit more, and his hand started to slowly trace up and down his thigh. Each time his hand moved up, it got slightly closer to his clearly visible bulge, but it never ever touched it- not even for a second. I had no book to follow this lesson, so I wasn't listening to a word that Mr Weekes was saying, I was just focusing on his hand. 

Mr Weekes finished the first chapter fifteen minutes before the bell rang, and for the first time in two years, I was somewhat disappointed that the lesson was ending.  
"Mr Urie, what happened in the first chapter?" he asked me, still sitting on my desk, staring at me.  
"Um.. Er..." I was speechless. I didn't know what to say to him. Did he know I was staring at his hand the the past 45 minutes?   
"Were you listening, Mr Urie?" He asked, now glaring at me, still not moving from my desk.  
"No, Sir"  
"Stay behind after class," he snapped, moving from my desk to his.  
He started calling on other people like Frank, Gerard and Sarah then. The time before the bell went quite fast. I was just avoiding thinking of my impending doom, and instead thinking about playing Fallout 4 when I got home. I was so engrossed in my thoughts of the game that Mr Weekes had to shout my name to get my attention. When I heard him, my head shot up.   
"Sorry, Sir."  
"So you should be. Move closer to the front please."  
The few steps towards the front row of the classroom felt like the walk of shame. I had never been worried about disappointing Mr Weekes, in fact, it happened quite frequently, but today it felt different.  
"Do you know what happens if you fail this class, Mr Urie?" he asked me.  
"No, Sir."  
"If you fail this class, you can't get into university, if you can't get into university, you can't get a decent job, if you can't get a decent job, you won't have the sustainability to start the family that you will probably have. So instead of staring at my hand for 45 minutes, actually listen to what I say!" He started to raise his voice by the end of the rant.  
Shit. He knew. He wasn't supposed to know.  
"You have until tomorrow to read the first chapter. If it's not done, there will be consequences." He said handing me a book. "Am I clear?"  
"Yes, Sir."  
"Good, then I'll see you tomorrow."


End file.
